The Visit

After my little drive in the country on Sunday, I proceeded from the Sells Mill Park into my hometown to visit with a friend. I was feeling a little uneasy inside as I drove along the familiar streets of my youth. It had been a long time since I had been to visit this friend—too long. I was worried about exactly how I would feel during this visit.

I took a right onto Candler Street, growing a bit more apprehensive as my car rolled along. And since when did they put in place all these stop signs? Each time I braked at the four-ways, I felt a bit tenser as I knew I was closing in the distance between me and my destination. Then I smiled for a brief moment as I passed by the house that my friend Red lived in during our teenage years and the eye doctor’s office right next to it. I chucked in spite of myself as I remembered how our friend La-La’s grandparents could never remember Red’s real name and always referred to her as “the girl who lives by the doctors.” My smile faded and I felt tears threaten my now stinging eyes. The steeple of the First Presbyterian Church, the church I grew up in and was baptized in, came into view, but I would turn off just before I reached it.

As I parked my car, I noticed that my hands were shaking. It had been four years going on five since I had talked to her. Her birthday was last week on February, 13th and I had missed it. Again.

“S.,” I began, “I hope you can forgive me for not coming by in such a long time. I know that I promised I would always stop by. I’m so sorry that I have let you down and I hope that you know that I still love you and you are never far away in my thoughts.”

She didn’t say a word as I sat down in the grass in the yard and poured my heart out to her. She didn’t say a word even as I finally broke down and cried so hard that I lost my breath.

I didn’t expect her to say a word. She, my best friend, had passed away five years ago. And the grassy yard that I was sitting on wasn’t the same grassy yard of her parents’ or my parents’ home that we used to sit on until well after dark on a summer’s night. It was the grassy yard of Rose Hill Cemetery. And I hadn’t been able to bring myself to walk across the grass of Rose Hill to her resting place in almost five years.

Some people wear rose-colored glasses to view the unpleasantries of life. Some people wear their blind folds and see only what they want to see and ignore what they do not. I fall into the category of those who wear blinders to deal with things. Of course, this isn’t really dealing with it, but rather a way of not dealing with it. It is a way to just make it by. I found my personal loss to be too much to deal with so I blocked it out until I felt I was strong enough to deal with it. Until that point, I simply “just made it” by.

I had another tragedy of sorts happening in my life at the time of her death and many, many worries. It was more than I could handle at that time. It was especially hard losing her at this time in my life as she was someone that I trusted and counted on completely. There are things that she about knew me and my life that she took silently along with her to her grave.

My life quickly down spiraled from this point. Life was sad, lonely, and miserable for me. It took me so long to recover from these things. And now I have reached a new level of happiness in my life, a new way of thinking, and have accomplished so much that I had wished I could share with her. And that is just what I did on this day. I opened my heart and caught her up on all of the events of my life. I felt this was something I needed to do. I felt this was the final stage of healing.

More than anything I wanted to take her hand and gently squeeze it, just to let her know that I am still here. I wanted to take her hand the same way that I did when her mother passed away and I tried to comfort her…The same way I did as she lay dying in a hospital bed.

No, she did not say a word, but I know she heard me. And though I could not hold her hand, as I placed my hand on her headstone, I could feel her and I knew she could feel me. And as I stood up to leave, the wind that blew through my hair didn’t seem as cold and I could almost feel her spirit surrounding me. I thought I heard her whisper, “I knew you would make it. And things are only going to get better. And I’ll be there.”

I smiled and said aloud, “Just as you always were.”